


i can’t carry you forever, but i can hold you now

by caffeinatedvirgo



Category: Outer Banks (TV)
Genre: ALL the comfort, Angst, F/M, Pining, all the hurt, i love them, jiara is the slowburn i will die for, kinda iffy coping mechanisms, pope ily but u and kiara just made no sense to me i’m sorry, somehow this became multichapter don’t ask me how, they’re dumb teens okay, unrealistic probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:29:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23817697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffeinatedvirgo/pseuds/caffeinatedvirgo
Summary: JJ, Kiara, and picking up the pieces. Set immediately after 1x10 and continuing onward.
Relationships: JJ & Kiara (Outer Banks), JJ/Kiara (Outer Banks), jiara
Comments: 94
Kudos: 548





	1. Chapter 1

They go home that night, the three of them. Separately, apart.

Kie’s parents try to console her with comforting hands on her shoulders and gentle kisses on her forehead. She doesn’t have the energy to give them much more than a halfhearted smile, but even that feels like a grimace. They leave her alone in her room, closing the door behind them. It’s barely clicked shut before she collapses right onto the floor, silent sobs racking her body. So much has happened. _Too_ _much_ has happened.

She doesn’t know how long she stays there, crumpled on the hardwood, her whole body shaking with violent tremors. When she finally stops though, when she finally regains just enough energy to haul herself onto the foot of her bed, she finds herself thinking of JJ.

_He’s alone right now,_ she says to herself. Nobody to stay with him, to hold him and offer touches of love and comfort. Taking in a shaky, uneven breath, Kie wipes the tears from her cheeks and lets her eyes slip closed. She can hear her dad snoring in the room across the hall, which means her mom has to be asleep as well.

An invisible force has her tiptoeing out of her room and down the hall, through the kitchen and out to the garage as she takes her keys from the rack on her way out. It’s still raining when she pulls out of the driveway, not as heavy as it was before. Almost as quickly as it came the storm is passing, almost as if it’s mocking her. If they had just a few more hours, would John B and Sarah have made it?

Another sob bubbles up past her lips, and before she knows it she’s full-on crying again. It’s all she can do to focus on the empty road ahead of her, gripping the steering wheel like it’ll somehow anchor her to reality. The drive to the Cut is nothing but a blur of rain and tears, and she’s pulling up to John B’s house before she can even think about it.

The van is here. _JJ,_ she thinks. He would’ve been the one to take it when they all left the shore. He’s here, just like she thought he would be. For him, it’s the closest thing to home.

She gives herself five minutes in her parked car, letting everything sink in. She doesn’t want to go in there looking how she feels, though she can’t imagine JJ is much better off. When her time ends she stumbles up to the porch, through the door and into the house.

“JJ?” she whispers.

“Kie?” she hears his voice from the kitchen, and then he’s shuffling into the living room to greet her.

It’s dark save for a single candle left burning on the window sill. She thinks of it like a memorial of sorts, and less like a way to combat the loss of power. In this lighting JJ looks older, tired and grownup. The shadows dance over his features, gold reflecting in his blue eyes and making his hair shine.

“What are you doing here?” he asks her, sniffing, and his voice is just a little nasally. She knows he’s been crying. Even in this half-light she can see the puffiness of his eyes.

“I don’t know,” she says softly. She looks down to her right, sees the pull-out bed she’s slept on more times than she can count. “I… didn’t know where else to go. I thought you might be here.” The last part is quieter, almost like it’s something she shouldn’t admit to. Without thinking, she sits on the foot of the bed. Funny, not even a half hour ago she sat on her own bed the exact same way. She wonders why this feels so much more like home.

“Well, you uh. You know me, then,” says JJ. He clears his throat.

A silence falls over them, not awkward but also not pleasant. Just… _heavy_. With what, Kie isn’t sure. Grief, of course, but there’s something more. She can feel it.

“JJ,” she says, and just like that, she can’t stop herself from crying once again. It’s all she’s been doing this whole night. She doesn’t think she’ll ever stop.

“Oh, fuck, Kie,” he says, crossing the room in a few long strides and sitting beside her on the bed. His arms twitch awkwardly, like he isn’t sure if he should hold her or just sit beside her. She makes it easy for him and leans against his shoulder, her eyes tightly shut as the hot tears flow. “Shit, Kiara, you’re gonna make me cry, too,” JJ says again, and he laughs a little, but it’s watery and less than genuine.

He doesn’t put an arm around her, but he does reach for her hand. She holds it and he squeezes, and the feeling of his calloused skin against hers brings her some comfort.

“God, what do we do, JJ?” she asks weakly, turning to face him as she finally regains some semblance of composure. “How are we supposed to… to…”

“I don’t know,” he says, his eyes trained on something in the distance. “I don’t fucking know.”

For some reason, that makes her feel better. His honesty is refreshing; he’s not pretending to be strong or to have all the answers. He’s just as broken inside as she is, if not more. She is thankful for his vulnerability, for his trust.

They sit there like that for a few minutes, her head on his shoulder and his gaze locked somewhere ahead of them, their hands entwined in Kie’s lap. He smells like salt and rain and something else distinctive, but her brain isn’t working well enough to place it. He’s just JJ, steadfast and sensitive. She loves him in moments like this one, when he has nothing to prove to anyone. When he lets himself feel something, lets his guard down for once.

“We’ll be okay, Kie,” he tells her, and she’s surprised by how determined he sounds when he says it, how resolute. “You know? We… we have to be.”

She nods, because he’s right. What else can they do other than move on, or at least try to? She doesn’t want to, but in her heart she knows it has to be done. And she thinks maybe if she has JJ by her side, and Pope and her family, then it might be just a little bit easier.

She feels JJ turn to look at her, and she counts three Mississippis before she turns to him, too. Her heart jumps a little when she locks eyes with him. There’s something there she’s never seen before, a whirlpool of determination, fire, and vulnerability. She is frozen.

“Believe me, Kie,” he says, and she realizes that he’s referring to what he said a moment ago.

“I do,” she says.

He kisses her.

For a split second she lets it happen. She lets her lips move against his for the briefest of moments before pulling away and shoving his shoulders.

“What the hell, JJ?” she demands, a frantic edge creeping into her voice as she stands up like she’s been stung by a jellyfish or something. There’s too much running through her mind right now and _Pope,_ god, she kissed Pope today. She shouldn’t have let JJ do anything, shouldn’t have let herself enjoy it, no matter how brief it was.

“Fuck, I-I don’t know I just—“

“Oh my god.”

“Look, Kie, I’m sorry I—“

“You can’t just… you can’t just _kiss_ me like that! Our friends are _dead_ , JJ!”

“You don’t know that—“

“How could they not be?” Her voice is rising, shriller with each word. The rain still pounds against the windows, and for a moment that’s the only sound in the house.

With a start, Kie realizes that JJ has fallen silent, uncharacteristically so. Once again he’s staring ahead, and this time she follows his gaze. The refrigerator is right there, one photograph pinned to it with a palm tree magnet. It’s weathered, and one corner is creased. She knows exactly what the picture is. It’s them, the Pogues, a year ago on a particularly beautiful day. Pope’s mother had seen them all on the dock outside of her home and began gushing about how beautiful they were. She just had to take a photo.

Kie sighs. She didn’t mean to snap at JJ. She knows he’s just as sad, and it wasn’t fair for her to lash out when all he did was act in the moment. She’d be lying if she said she’s never done the same.

And so she sits back down next to him, the mattress sinking a little under her weight. “JJ,” she murmurs, covering his shaking hand with her own. His knuckles are scabbed. When he looks at her, Kie’s breath catches. She’s never seen him like this. The vulnerability in his eyes, it… it’s almost too much. She nearly has to look away, but she holds her ground, her eyes searching his face for any semblance of the boy he was not even a week ago, carefree and unshakable.

His lip is still swollen, his cheek bruised. She always knew his dad was terrible to him, but this is the worst she’s ever seen the repercussions of his anger. She remembers the hot tub, the ugly bruises that blossomed along his ribs as he shouted about lights and booze and _stop being emotional._ More, she remembers how tightly he still held onto her, strong arms secure around her waist like she was the one who needed support, not him. Maybe she was. All she knows is that in that moment, she never wanted to let him go.

In the morning she’ll blame it on grief, the way it clouded her mind and clung to the edges of her thoughts. She’ll tell herself that it was desperate, a momentary show of weakness. But right now, with the rain coming down outside, the sound of the raindrops joined only by their uneven breathing, Kie lets herself feel.

She brings her lips up to his, hesitant, nearly touching. JJ doesn’t move, but she hears his breath hitch. She closes the distance.

She doesn’t know what she expected. JJ’s had his fair share of girls, and she’s not exactly innocent herself, but kissing him is different. She’s taken aback by the softness of it all, how gently his lips move against hers, like he’s afraid to do anything more.

But that’s what she wants. More.

She brings a careful hand up to his cheek, his unblemished one, and he shivers a bit at her touch. When they pull apart their foreheads and noses touch, and their breathing has become ragged.

“I thought—“ begins JJ, but Kie shakes her head.

“Just for tonight,” she whispers, and all it takes is a flick of his eyes to her lips and a slight nod, and they meet in the middle.

This kiss is hungrier than the first, intensified by their shared grief and their desperate need for distraction. She turns herself so that she’s fully facing him, one leg on the bed and one leg off. JJ’s hands immediately reach for her waist, pressing against her skin as the fabric of her t-shirt rides up under his thumbs. She opens her mouth against his and he complies, one hand moving to the small of her back. In one swift motion he’s got his arm looped around her, turning and lifting her fully onto the bed with ease.

He settles himself with one knee between her thighs, half on top of her with his arms braced on either side of her body as they break the kiss once more. Kie brings one hand up to gently tangle in his hair, running the golden strands between her fingers as she bites down on her lip.

“Are you sure?” JJ manages, breathless, his eyes not leaving her mouth.

She answers him with yet another kiss, and it’s all he needs before one hand slips fully under her shirt, splaying out across her ribs. Kie shivers, and JJ pulls away only to plant a kiss at her jaw, then on her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. Kie lets out a shaky breath as his hand creeps higher along her abdomen, his other braced against her thigh and only moving up.

“JJ,” she says, her voice no higher than a shaky whisper.  He hums against her skin, trailing even lower on her neck as he waits for her to speak.

She doesn’t say anything, just sits up slightly and reaches for the hem of his shirt. “Right,” he mutters, working with her to slip the tank top over his shoulders and haphazardly onto the floor. Her own shirt is next, thrown just as carelessly, leaving her in her bikini top and shorts from that day.

She wants to kiss him again, already craving the feeling from before. So she does. Once more, she cups his good cheek with one hand and rests her other on his shoulder, and they settle back onto the bed, losing themselves in each other while outside, the rain continues to fall.

She won’t pretend she’s had an extensive amount of hookups in the past. But with JJ… god, she wonders if this is why they call it making love, because she’s never had anything quite like this before. They both cry, tears for their lost friends and for the shifting tides, at the true loss of any remaining innocence and at just how complicated their lives have become. At one point she hears him whisper something into the crook of her neck while he moves with her, feels the vibration of his voice against her skin. It sounds like _“I love you,”_ but she says nothing in return, too afraid to entertain the thought. What she does do is hold him tighter, move with him and give in to everything she needs right now, in this moment. She gives in to him.

Tomorrow, they will face reality; JJ’s father and Pope and everyone in town who wants to know what happened. They will put on brave faces and act strong for the world, like they haven’t just lost their best friend. Tomorrow, they will be grownups.

But tonight… tonight they are young, they are everything, they are bright and beautiful as the stars that burn behind the clouds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) i love outer banks and also this ship which has miraculously cured my longterm writer’s block
> 
> 2) rudy pankow is the only blond boy i will ever be caught simping for
> 
> 3) thanks for reading! i feel bad doing this to pope but i had to get it out. i’ve got another jiara wip that’s more one-sided and sticks to canon so be on the lookout for that!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ironically, one of the only things she hates more than a hypocrite is a coward. And apparently, she's oh-for-two."
> 
> or,
> 
> Kiara finally faces the music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this absolutely was not supposed to be multi-chapter. what am i doing.
> 
> heavy pining in this chapter. brace yourselves.

They don't talk about it.

It's not like they regret it—at least Kie doesn't, not really, and she hopes to the Universe that JJ doesn't, either—they just... don't want to acknowledge it.

Healthy? No.

Easy? _Fuck yes._

On the contrary, she's decided to talk to Pope today. Really talk to him. It's been a week since... everything. Things have just felt weird for way too long now, and she thinks it's only fair that they have this conversation before the tension creates a divide that they just can't bridge.

They sit on the dock in front of his house, their feet dangling over the water as they squint at the setting sun. They've been silent for a good five minutes now. Kie knows she should say something; this whole thing was her idea, anyway, and if she's about to break his heart _again_ she needs to woman up and rip off the metaphorical Band-Aid.

They literally haven't spoken since she kissed him. Not even a text. Actually, that's a lie—he texted her a couple days ago, checking in, and her reply was one-worded. God, she's a bitch, isn't she?

But in a way, if she's being completely honest, Kie is just a little pissed off at Pope. The more she thinks about what happened over the course of those two days, the more irritated she gets. He threw a confession of love at her in the middle of one of the worst nights of their life, out of nowhere, while he was high off his ass. Then he _ignores_ her like a bitter middle schooler, simply because she shut him down? And yeah, okay, maybe she shouldn't have kissed him the next day because _of course_ that'll give the guy the wrong impression, but she just felt... obligated? Is that the right word? She felt like, in a way, she owed it to him. For hurting his feelings.

But obligation is not reason.

A small fishing boat cruises by, its passengers waving at them. They wave back. Kie sighs. Now or never, she supposes.

"So," she says.

"So," Pope repeats, a little too quickly. She smiles a bit at that. He's too awkward for his own good. She loves him. Just... not in the way he wants her to.

"How's everything?"

"Kie," he says, firmly, and when she turns to face him he's already watching her. He gives her this _look,_ this fucking look that says, _I know. I know why you're here. Just say it._

She sighs. Why is this so hard?

"I'm sorry," she says quietly, turning away from him again. It kinda sounds more like a suggestion than a statement. She swings her legs a bit, her toes just skimming the surface of the water. She looks at the chipped blue polish on her toenails like they have all the answers—like they know exactly what she should say to make things right.

From the corner of her eye she sees his shoulders slouch a bit. "It's okay," he says, but he doesn't sound genuine. "I get it."

"I'm sorry," she says again, and she feels like crying. "I shouldn't have—it was shitty of me, okay? It shouldn't have happened, I shouldn't have—"

"I shouldn't have, either," he says simply, and she looks back up at him. He offers her a small smile, apologetic. "It wasn't fair of me to throw that at you, high or not. And I shouldn't have reacted the way I did when you rejected me. I get it. No Pogue-on-Pogue macking, right? I know those rules are important to you."

Her mind flashes to last week, that night, JJ, and she feels sick. She's a hypocrite now.

She hates hypocrites.

But she doesn't say anything. Ironically, one of the only things she hates more than a hypocrite is a coward. Apparently, she's oh-for-two.

"Yeah," she says instead. Lame. Coward.

Pope sniffs. "Why'd you do it?" he asks, and she knows he's referring to the kiss. "You know, if you don't feel that way about me."

She sighs. She didn't want to admit her reasoning. But, he deserves to know at the very least, so she takes a deep breath and steels herself. "I was... caught up," she tries, "I guess. I don't know, you... you told me you _loved me,_ Pope. I mean, what was I supposed to do with that?" She laughs humorlessly before continuing, "I love you, I do, but... not like that. You know? It was just the moment."

He's quiet. She lets him have that.

"I'm sorry," she offers again. "It's not your fault. So don't... you know, start thinking it is. Because it's not." Except, isn't it, kind of? In her mind, the blame is more-or-less equal. She shouldn't be coddling him, but she doesn't want to kick him while he's down, so she leaves it at that.

He nods, still saying nothing. God, she feels like shit. She doesn't know what to do; stay, wrap a comforting arm around his shoulders? Leave, let him have his space and his time to process?

"Hey," she says finally, gently, reaching out and shaking his shoulder a bit until he looks at her. He's sad, she can tell, but he's putting on a brave face. God, she loves this kid. He deserves someone who will love him for all the right reasons, for everything about him. "We're still friends, right? Pogues for life?"

He nods, his mouth tilting just slightly into a smile. "Pogues for life," he says, and offers his hand and they do the handshake and while the energy is still a little off, while there's probably still so much to say, she'll take it.

For now, it's enough.

* * *

"I talked to Pope."

A beat of silence. JJ takes a long drag of the joint they're sharing before he speaks. "Yeah?" he says, his gaze not leaving the treetops. His bruises are gone, at least the ones on his face. She's started checking now, since the hot tub incident; his arms, his legs, any part of him she can see. She's been relieved to see nothing new as of late. She doesn't know how long it'll last, but she naïvely hopes it's forever.

Even still, he's been different. Less... _JJ_. He's still hot-headed, goofy, passionate. But he just seems defeated, or something. Of course he does. His best friend went down at sea not even a week ago. Kiara would be worried if a person _didn't_ have trauma and a slight attitude shift after something like that. She misses him, though. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes anymore, and his once-endless energy seems to have been sapped. He tries to act like he used to, she knows he does, but she can see through it. She thinks he needs these nights just as badly as she does.

They're at the Chateau, a day after her conversation with Pope. It's kind of unspoken, this new system they've got—they both end up here more often than not, usually in the hammock, tipsy or high or both. Kie knows that before long they'll foreclose the house, but damned if she doesn't enjoy whatever limited time they've got left.

Tonight is one of those nights. It's dusk again, but the context is so, so different. She feels at ease here, and maybe it's the weed, but mostly she thinks it's the company.

She takes the joint from him, gently, and he lets her. She breathes in a good drag herself, holding it, letting it settle into her lungs until she feels the familiar burn in the back of her throat and exhales slowly. The taste lingers. "Yeah," she says in response to JJ's inquiry.

"How'd it go?" he asks.

She shrugs. "Fine. I guess. I don't know."

"Are you guys—"

"No," she shakes her head, smiling a bit, tilting her head over and up to look at him. All she can see is his jawline and a little bit of his face, but his lips quirk a bit like he's fighting his own smile.

"Gotcha," he says, seemingly more to himself. "Gotcha."

Another silence settles over them, this one lasting for a comfortable several minutes as they pass the joint a few more times. It's almost out by the time Kiara speaks again. "I feel bad."

"Don't."

"I do."

JJ shifts, finishing off the joint and turning to face her, careful not to tip the hammock. "Kiara," he says, and the use of her full name has her turning her head to look at him. His eyes are glassy, hooded. High. She turns her body as well, until they're facing each other completely, her hands pressed together under her cheek. The proximity makes her heart beat a little harder, a little faster. Being this close to JJ feels so different now. But she doesn't hate it. "Don't feel bad," he repeats. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Her eyes flick to his mouth before she can even think about it, about stopping herself. It's brief, but she knows he sees it. He swallows, and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

"I hurt his feelings, JJ," she says, quickly meeting his eyes again. "He doesn't deserve that."

"And you don't deserve to beat yourself up for acting impulsively," he says simply. "He kinda blindsided you with everything, didn't he? If you ask me, that's more on him."

"Don't blame him," she says halfheartedly, because even though it feels good for her actions to be validated she doesn't like talking bad about someone if they aren't around to defend themselves. "It was both of us."

"I guess."

"Whatever," she says, closing her eyes. A breeze picks up off the water, and she likes the chill of it against her skin. She can feel goosebumps rising on her exposed arms and legs, but she doesn't mind. She smiles just a little, close-lipped and peaceful. "I'm just relieved we talked, you know? Maybe we'll be back to normal soon." She pauses. "Or, you know. As normal as things can get now."

JJ doesn't reply, which is odd. Not even a hum of agreement or a clever quip or anything. She frowns a bit, opening her eyes to see what the hold up is. But then her breath catches a bit, because when she looks at him he's got that same expression he had _that_ night, the one that's some combination of resolve and passion and that other mystery thing she can't quite place. It makes her nervous. It makes her excited. It makes her want to kiss him.

God.

She clears her throat and turns herself back around to face the sky so she doesn't do something she'll regret. She hears him sigh, but he remains on his side, facing her. _Just for tonight,_ she had told him then. _Just for tonight._

Had she meant that? Yes, of course she did, because Pogues can't mack on other Pogues. It's just like Pope said; the rules are important. Important to her. And she can't be a hypocrite anymore, or a coward, but she's starting to think she has to be one in order to _not_ be the other. A hypocrite would say _fuck the rules_ and give in, and kiss JJ because he's _right fucking there_ and he's looking at her like _that_. A coward would follow the rules and call it there, refrain from kissing her best fucking friend even though she wants to— _god, she wants to_ —because those are the rules, and it's so much easier for everyone that way.

"There's the North Star," she says suddenly, grasping at anything to change the subject, to cut through the sudden heaviness that has settled over them. She doesn't know when the sky got dark, but somehow, while she was all wrapped up in her feelings and in him, it did.

She usually doesn't do this when she's high. Think too much, that is. She needs to get out of her own head. So... stars. Sure.

"Hm?" JJ hums, and she's picturing a furrow between his brows.

"There," she says, and she has to lean a little closer to him to get the right angle through the trees. "That super bright one. Sarah loves it. Loved it," she amends quickly. "Fuck."

She doesn't want to cry anymore, so she doesn't, even though her eyes suddenly feel a little prickly and her throat a little lumpy. But she doesn't cry. John B wouldn't want her to. He'd come right over there and offer her a drink and say something stupidly kind because that's how he is. _Was_. Jesus.

"Do you know any others?" JJ asks, and she appreciates him for overlooking her slip-up. He rolls back over onto his back, hands folded over his stomach and one elbow brushing her arm.

"Yeah," says Kie, squinting up at the sky as she thinks. This was one of her favorite things to do with Sarah back when they were freshmen. Stargazing. The other girl always lit up when she talked about the constellations, and she was completely radiant when she did. Sometimes Kie thinks she could have fallen in love with Sarah if things hadn't gone the way they did. Not that it matters now.

"Okay," she says, finally landing one. "That one's easy, see it? Right—no, over a bit... up—yeah, there! That's Ursa Minor."

"Little Dipper."

"Mhm," says Kie with a nod. "Little Bear." For some reason JJ chuckles at that, and for some other reason Kie finds herself giggling along with him until they're full-on laughing. "What the fuck is so funny?" she asks between bursts.

"I don't fucking know, man," says JJ, wiping at his eye. "I think I'm just really fucking high right now."

She turns to face him, and he turns to face her, and they're deadly serious before simultaneously erupting into genuine, obnoxious, side-splitting laughter.

What was she thinking? God, she could never kiss JJ. Not again. It's too risky. She can't lose this, this laughter and this high and these moments under the stars. They're far too precious to let go of, so she won't. She can't.

They're all she has left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this won't be a long story, one or two more chapters probably. hopefully. idk i've never written anything longer than like four chapters so hopefully this'll be wrapped up soon. i just was like "ok i rushed this way too much and there needs to be more detail and development because jiara is slowburn excellence and they deserve a real plot."
> 
> anyway, hope you enjoyed this!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Kie's not somebody who should ever cry, unless it's from laughing too hard or from watching a wildlife documentary. Not because she lost her best friend in probably the worst way possible."
> 
> or,
> 
> JJ reflects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> time for a good old jj pov! god, this kid's hard to write.
> 
> lots of sadness this chapter. not the usual vibes of the show. it's a sad story though, so i guess it's fitting. i really want to write some lighthearted stuff for my next work because all these feels are way too draining.

JJ loved Kie the first time he laid eyes on her.

Look, it sounds cheesy. Like, grossly cheesy in the way that makes you frown and wrinkle your nose and pucker your lips like you just sucked on a straight lemon slice, no sugar. But hear him out.

Before his whole idea of love was royally fucked up by his shitbag of a father, before Mr. and Mrs. Carerra scraped together enough money from The Wreck to move to Figure Eight and send Kie to that fancy Kook school, JJ loved her.

See, they were in the same kindergarten class. He saw her on the first day, over by the sand table with a few of the other kids. One of the first things he noticed was how much darker her skin was than that of all the others, even the ones with a sun tan like JJ’s own. He was only five, so of course he didn’t exactly have a broad knowledge of demographics, just knew that most of the people he’d met had a complexion more like his own.

Her hair was still wild and curly, super dark brown and falling in long tangles over her shoulders and down her back. It was really pretty and looked very soft and he kinda wanted to touch it but  that would be weird right? She was wearing this light pink tank top, the straps tied into bows on her shoulders, and pale yellow shorts and white sandals with flowers on them. JJ thought that if “outside” was a person, it would look like her.

On that very first day he watched as one of the other boys stole a little toy truck straight out of her hands, and in response she scowled and shoved him right over, reclaiming her prize. The teacher got mad and started yelling, but little Kiara looked far too pleased with herself to be even remotely upset.

JJ promptly decided that he loved her.

Of, course, in his five-year-old mind, love meant sitting beside her during every Circle Time, and always choosing her to go next in Show and Tell after his turn was over, and sharing a little bag of Skittles with her when he somehow managed to do well enough on his math homework for the teacher to give him a gold star and let him pick from the treasure chest of candy and little toys.

He climbed into his mom's car at the end of that first day and told her, "I love Kiara."

His mom had frowned a little, but laughed good-naturedly and ruffled his hair with her thin fingers. "Tell me about her," she said, and he did.

Another time that stands out a bit is this one day when he was eleven, and the sky was overcast but the water was perfect. He was at the beach by himself because Mom split two years ago now and it's not like Dad gave a fuck about where he was or his general well-being. He had one of his dad's old boards, _borrowed,_ not stolen, and was sitting on it, drifting in the water as he waited for a good wave.

A laugh drew his attention somewhere to his right, and he squinted a bit to see where it came from. There were only a few other people out that day, so it wasn't hard to locate the source. He was surprised to see Kiara of all people, lying belly-down on her own board next to her father, who stood waist-deep with a protective hand on the small of her back.  _He was teaching her how to surf,_ JJ realized. A pang of jealousy ran through his gut at that, but a hint of nostalgia tickled the edges of his heart as well. He never spent time like this with his father. His mom was the one who loved to surf, taught him basically as soon as he could stand on his own two feet.

He had considered paddling out and saying hello, but he’d decided he would have felt intrusive. He knew how special it was to have such quality time with her father, and he didn’t want to ruin it on her. (Plus okay, maybe he was also feeling a little shy because even though he certainly was not in love with her like he used to think, she was still pretty and kind and funny and he did _not_ want to make a fool of himself.)

And then there was high school.

Kie got hot the same summer she came back from her Kook year. Maybe there really was something in the water. Something that made cute girls who played ukulele and danced to every song and surfed like one of the guys grow mile-long legs and boobs.

He and the others were all still a little pissed at her for ditching them for an entire year, JJ probably more than JB and Pope, but Kie's hatred for Kooks seemed to have increased tenfold since her time at their fancy-ass school, plus the whole legs-and-boobs thing, so they really couldn’t stay mad at her for long, because they were 15-year-old boys and hormones take no prisoners.

She also came back with a new passion for activism, specifically of the environmental vein. This one day they were at The Wreck and she came over and got right all up in JJ’s face, leaning across the table—he tried  really hard to avoid lowering his gaze because she’s _Kie_ and sexualization is bad but _oh my god_ —and pulled the plastic straw he was chewing on right from between his teeth.

“Do you know how terrible that is?” she had asked, crossing her arms. “Single-use plastic is one of the worst offenders in marine life endangerment.”

She went on for a minute about how she was trying to convince her dad to take more conservational measures around the restaurant and how JJ should really be investing in metal straws. He didn’t bother telling her that metal straws were without a doubt a luxury he couldn’t afford, because she was so fired up and he couldn’t stop staring at her. Her passion was beyond evident in her face, in the way her brows furrowed—she had started filling them in—and in the way her lips moved a mile a minute. Had they always looked that soft? Either way it was hot,  she was hot, and that was when JJ first realized he might be in trouble.

All of this is just a roundabout way of saying that there's a lot about Kie that JJ loves, admires even. At the forefront of that list, though, is her passion for... well, everything. With Kiara, everything she does gets 100% of her heart and her soul. Whether it's pushing a boy over when she's scorned at the sand table, or persevering against those first few wipeouts on her board, or lighting up about the oceans and climate change and all that shit that's so far out of his grasp, Kiara gives it her all.

So it's no surprise that when she feels something, she feels it strongly. It's a blessing and a curse, JJ supposes, but today's one of those days where it's more of a curse, because today they found _The Phantom_ , capsized and drifting in the middle of the Atlantic. No bodies.

John B. Routledge and Sarah Cameron have been officially presumed dead.

JJ thinks it’s kinda ironic, in a shitty sort of way. The exact same bullshit happened with Big John—lost at sea, presumed dead. Fleetingly, he wonders if yeah, maybe Pope was right, maybe that compass really is a fucking Death Compass From Hell. Bad juju, or whatever the fuck kind of spiritual shit Kie would say.

Regardless of the reason, though, he cries. Pope cries, too.

Kie sobs.

Man, does he hate it when Kie sobs. He doesn't see it very often, but in the past week and a half he's gotten a front-row view of a whole awful lot of it, and he truly does hate it. Irrationally, he's angry at John B because of it. Kiara's not somebody who should ever cry, unless it's from laughing too hard or from watching a wildlife documentary. Not because she lost her best friend in probably the worst way possible.

She leans against him, practically dead weight, pressing her tear-streaked face into his shoulder and clutching the fabric of his shirt in a vice as Shoupe stands in front of them in the backyard of John B's place, his ugly ass caterpillar mustache twitching downward with his somber expression. The bastard even has the nerve to cry too, as if he's not the one who caused this whole fucking mess in the first place.

JJ tightens his arm around Kie. He's fighting real fucking hard to not break down here himself, but it's all he wants to do, and if this shit excuse for a cop in front of them doesn't get out right the fuck now, JJ's gonna lose it.

He doesn't have to, though, because Pope does it for him.

"Get out," he says lowly, and JJ's just grounded enough to blink in surprise at his friend's tone.

Shoupe seems taken aback too, surprised that Heyward's gawky son is snapping at him like a turtle. But he doesn't protest. Doesn't say something like, _"Watch your tone, boy,"_ or place a warning hand on his holstered gun. Instead he blinks, sniffs, nods, runs a hand over the bottom half of his face.

"Yeah," he says, his voice strained. Slowly, he turns to leave, but he pauses at the first step. "I truly am sorry, kids," he says, and JJ almost believes him.

* * *

That night is surreal, much like the first one when all this shit went down. The three of them sit in John B's bed, pressed up against the shaky old headboard. JJ's in the middle, with Kiara lying half on top of him and Pope leaning his head into the crook of JJ's neck. They don't say anything. Can't say anything.

Deep down, JJ thinks he knew all along that they were dead. But there was still that insistent little tug at his gut that told him maybe they miraculously survived, got picked up by the coast guard or some cargo ship and are currently laying low on an island somewhere because hey, they're still fugitives. If he's being honest, that tug still hasn't gone away. Maybe he's just in denial.

Probably denial.

They sit there for a long time, lumped together and trying to find comfort in physical contact. Last time the three of them held onto each other like this, John B was M.I.A. and JJ was drunk off his ass and the closest to rock bottom he's ever been.

Pope went home that night because of his dad, and JJ wasn't even mad about that because he knows, but Kie stayed with him, holding him, until their skin was pruny and they were both shivering despite the hot water. She even tried to get him to come home with her that night, adamant that he _absolutely was not going back to that asshole._ He had flinched a little at her words, because yeah his dad's a dick, but he doesn't like hearing it from other people because it just feels wrong.

Anyway. History repeats itself tonight when Pope gets a call from Heyward himself, demanding that he return home. Pope knows he's already in hot enough water as it is, having lost his scholarship and still on the outs for disappearing for three days, and reluctantly heads out, but not without stalling a bit.

And then it's just them again. JJ and Kiara. Thankfully they both seem to be done crying, thank _god,_ he hates seeing her like that, and they just keep sitting there with nothing to really say.

Kie shifts suddenly, curling even further into him, so much that her nose and her lips brush his neck, her hands still fisted in the material of his shirt. He's bad at this whole _comforting touch_ thing, but he tries to do what she did for him in the hot tub, running his fingers along her upper arm and even through her hair. It seems like it's working, if the way her breathing evens out is anything to go by, and he prays to whoever that his heart isn't beating like crazy right now, because usually Kie makes his heart beat like crazy, and he'll be a little embarrassed if she can feel that happening right now.

He does love her, he thinks, or at least something close to it. Like, shit, he literally _said it out loud._ Not his proudest moment, but he's pretty sure she didn't hear it anyway, so he's been telling himself he didn't mean it, was just caught up in everything, because there's no way he's even capable of love in the first place. Maybanks and love are a whole lot like oil and water, or whatever that combination is. Sure, they can touch the surface, but when it comes to the real thing, they're totally defective.

Not that this is something he should even be thinking about right now. But it's not like he particularly wants to think about the fact that his best friend since childhood is _presumed dead,_ so next best thing, he supposes.

"Kie," he murmurs, a little surprised at the hoarseness of his voice.

She hums a bit in acknowledgment, and it vibrates against the skin of his neck and his gut twists a bit. Not in a bad way.

"Do you need to go home?" he asks, swallowing, because he wants to say something. He really just can't take the silence anymore.

"No."

"Kie."

She pulls away from him and sits a little more upright. He feels cold all of a sudden, now that she's not pressed up against him.

"I wanna... I don't know. Stay. Here," she says, shrugging, her brows furrowed in determination as she gestures to the room, the house. She almost sounds offended that he would even suggest something like going home. "With you. With all of John B's shit. God knows he's got enough of it lying around."

JJ's lips quirk a bit at that. "What a slob, that John B."

Kie scoffs. "Like you're any better."

"Hey, I'm clean as fuck," he retorts, falling easily into their banter. It's a weak attempt at normalcy, but he'll take it. "Like, name one time you've seen me slobbing it up—"

"Oh, do you want a list?" says Kie, a smile slowly coming to her face. "Because I have a list—"

"Oh, real funny—"

_"Hilarious—"_

"Is that what you're calling it?"

This is good. This is easy. This is them.

* * *

He wakes up with the sun in his eyes and Kie still beside him. If it was some corny movie they'd probably have woken up in each other's arms or some shit, but this is real life and so he opens his eyes to see her back, rising and falling with her breathing, haloed by the light coming in from John B's bedroom window.

Miraculously, her parents took pity on her last night and let her stay the night at the Chateau. At this point everyone's heard about _The Phantom_ and the lack of bodies, and JJ has no doubt the town will be either awfully quiet or obnoxiously loud for the next few days.

He moves his hand just a little to gently take one of Kie's curls, rolling it absentmindedly between his thumb and forefinger. He remembers a time from a year ago, when Kie tried to teach the guys how to braid. She sat in lotus position at the bow of _The Pogue,_ verbally trying to direct their clumsy fingers into the right maneuvers to create a successful braid. They each had their own section of her hair for their attempt.

John B did great, naturally. Pope wasn't bad, but he kept getting frustrated and starting over even though it looked totally fine every time. JJ was a lost cause. He got her curls all knotted up and she had griped about it for the rest of the day and into the night when she had to attempt to de-tangle it all.

He takes a deep breath, letting go of Kie's hair and carefully moving out of the bed. He shuffles out into the kitchen, figuring he'll make some tea or something. He's not a fan of the stuff, but Kie's got some green tea stashed somewhere so he'll at least put together a cup for her. He'll have water or something. Or maybe he'll go crazy and give tea another chance. He just has a lot of energy or something. He needs to keep himself busy.

The Chateau couldn't ever dream of being fancy enough to have an instant coffee maker or even a tea kettle, so he just sticks a mug of tap water into the microwave for a few minutes. While it heats up, he paces around the kitchen a bit, humming and drumming on just about every surface. Again; lots of energy.

This place really is a disaster. Between getting ransacked by those square groupers, plus being essentially vacant throughout the whole week or two of their treasure hunt, there's been no one to take care of things. Not that it was ever neat by any means, but at least it was never like _this._

There's little pieces of John B everywhere, now that JJ's actually looking. A half-eaten bag of cheese puffs, a worn-out sandal without its match, a maroon hoodie rumpled up in a pile on the floor. It looks for all the world like his best friend is about to walk into the kitchen, tiredly scratching his stomach and letting out a yawn before clapping JJ on the shoulder and striking up a conversation about how great the party was at the Boneyard last night.

Fuck.

The microwave beeps and JJ heads back over, pulling out the hot mug and turning to find a tea bag. He doesn't even make it to the cupboard.

He's not even sure how it happens. But one minute he's humming along to that surf-rock song that's been stuck in his head, and the next he's stumbling over the leg of a chair and the mug goes crashing onto the hard wood of the floor, breaking into little ceramic pieces as hot tea spills all over the place.

And JJ loses it.

God, it's stupid, isn't it? Losing his shit over a broken fucking _mug,_ and not even a sentimental one. But it's happening. For some reason _that's_ the catalyst, and the next thing he knows his legs are buckling and he's leaning against the table so he doesn't fall and break just like the mug. He cries, because everything sucks and the house is a mess and John B should be here any second to clean it up and clap JJ on the shoulder and talk about the Boneyard but he's _not_ and he never will be again and everything _sucks._

And that's how Kie finds him, hunched over the table, a tight fist resting on its surface and his other hand pressed into his eyes, and he's sniffing pathetically and letting out these clipped, almost-dry sobs that make it hard to breathe.

"JJ, what—what happened?" asks Kie, almost rhetorically. She steps carefully over the broken remnants on the ground and in record time she's there, wrapping her arms around his frame. JJ lets himself lean on her, and she slowly lowers them to the ground, against the side of the half-wall separating the kitchen and living room, pulling him to her. She's got one arm draped over his chest and shoulders, her free hand running through his hair, and he grips her forearm, crying into the crook of her elbow.

"Shh, JJ," she whispers, and he feels her press her lips against the crown of his head. "I know. I know."

"I don't know what to do, Kie," he blurts. "I don't... I can't... he should _be_ here, he should—"

"I know."

 _"Fuck!"_ he cries, because he can't think of anything else to say.

She holds him tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so. i'm really not a sappy person, and ironically i'm terrible with words when it's something important, but like let me try this real quick.
> 
> OVER 1000 HITS? TOP 3 OVERALL IN HITS AND KUDOS? guys, what. what, what, what. why do y'all like this so much. honestly you probably like it worlds more than i do. you’re some crazies.
> 
> no but all kidding aside, thank you so much. like seriously from the bottom of my heart, thank you for taking a chance on this poorly-planned, impulsively-published mess of a story, and for the consistent positive feedback and all the love and support. i never would have expected this outcome, not in a bajillion years. it truly and genuinely means the world to me and i wish there were a million more ways to say thank you to each and every comment that pops up in my inbox with these chapters, but there's not, so when i say something stupid like, "oh my gosh, thank you!" or "wow, thank you so much!" just know that i mean it more than you could ever know.
> 
> i love u guys. thanks again for everything. one more chapter, methinks, then i'll tie it off because honestly, multichapter angst just is not my cup of tea. see you then!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For one of the first times in his life, JJ actually wants to address the way he's feeling and talk it out with Kie and figure out what the fuck happens next, because a month ago he was certain he'd never get anywhere with her, on the verge of giving up completely, and now he knows exactly how her lips feel against his."
> 
> or,
> 
> Communication is key.
> 
> (also last chapter woooo! man, this one got away from me. as in 5,300+ words away from me. probably should've made it two chapters but oh well, c'est la vie, i am DONE.)

Life goes on. As much as it can, anyway.

There's a funeral service. For Sarah and John B. It's paid for by the Camerons, and JJ almost doesn't go because he knows he won't be able to handle the complete fucking _repulsion_ of being within ten feet of those fucking Kooks, but he does it for John B, for Pope, for Kie. He can't leave them behind just over a grudge, so he goes, but he's not happy about it.

Ward didn't even get in a lick of trouble, unsurprisingly, and neither does Rafe. The former puts on this whole fucking show, playing it up like he's this fucking hero for still honoring John B, because _everyone deserves something_ or some shit, JJ doesn't even know. What he does know is that it's all just a lie, and that everyone else is eating it right up.

Rafe has gotten smug, too, in his freedom. The guy walks around like he's even more untouchable than before, if that's possible. He stands right up there with his father and the remaining Camerons, his face awfully fucking stoic for someone who just lost his sister. JJ wants to run up there and punch him square in the goddamn nose.

Needless to say, it’s not easy. JJ sits with Pope and his family, while Kie is forced to sit with her parents among the Kooks. He thinks they're the only ones who showed up for John B, save for a couple of others from the Cut who apparently are on their side. The place is crawling with Kooks, pretending to be sympathetic, as if it's a competition to see who can be the most sad.

God, it's stuffy in here.

It drags on. Nobody gets up to speak for John B, unsurprisingly, so it ends after they're all done commemorating and fake-sobbing over Sarah. Pope and Kie's parents let the three of them have a few moments together, each waiting in their respective cars for their respective children.

"So that _sucked,_ " Kie huffs out, crossing her arms. "I'm sweating." She tugs at the long sleeves of her velvet dress as if that'll help. JJ can relate, and he's sure Pope can, too—they're each dressed in one of Pope's dress shirts and a pair of his slacks, and JJ supposes he's lucky they're right about the same size, because he absolutely does not own any clothes this nice.

"I'm just glad it's over," JJ says, tugging at his own collar. "I can't believe the amount of fucking Kooks."

"They act like they're actually sad about all of this," Pope remarks, and JJ's glad he's not the only one who caught on to the fake sympathy.

Kie's about to speak again when she suddenly focuses on something behind the two boys. Or rather, someone. They follow her gaze to see Rafe, Kelce, and Topper walking by. Rafe is staring them down while Kelce talks animatedly by his side, and Topper trails just slightly behind, looking at the ground.

"What a fucking pussy," JJ mutters, returning Rafe's stare.

"JJ," Kie snaps.

"Sorry," He says halfheartedly. "What a fucking _wimp,_ Kie, that better?"

She scoffs, but he's too busy glaring daggers to care.

"Fucking look at him," JJ bites out, "walking around like he can do no wrong."

"Ward Cameron's got everyone right where he wants them," Kie agrees. "It's all politics."

"We're never gonna get justice for them, are we?" asks Pope, and they fall silent at the weight of his statement.

"We'll keep fighting," says Kie, her voice even. "We have to, because no one else will."

"Yeah, and who's gonna listen to us?" JJ shoots back. "In case you forgot, we're fucking _accessories,_ Kiara. They didn't trust us before, and they sure as hell won't trust us now."

She glares at him. "Who cares, JJ?" she says. "If we can just get the _word_ out, put it in their heads that there's _more to the story—_ "

"Right, then they _still_ won't listen," he snaps, his temper flaring. Usually he loves her optimism, but right now it's really getting on his fucking nerves. "We're fucking _Pogues,_ Kie, even you. It's us against them, and that's a battle we're never. Going. To win."

"Dude, come on," tries Pope, placing a hand on his shoulder, but JJ shrugs him off.

"What, Pope?" he demands, turning on him now. "Are you gonna tell me it isn't true? You know it is. You fucking _know_ it."

"God, JJ, do you even _care?"_

He freezes at Kie's words, turning to her. She already looks like she regrets what she said, and she opens her mouth, no doubt to take it back, but JJ doesn't give her the chance.

"Fuck you," he says lowly. "No, actually, you know what? Fuck _both_ of you," he amends, looking between her and Pope as well. "Apparently I'm the only one here who knows how this plays out. It's not a goddamn happy ending, okay? It's not. The bad guys win, the good guys lose, and _that's_ fucking life," he snaps. "I want justice more than _anyone,"_ he says, lowly this time. "John B is my best fucking friend, and I want to see Ward and Rafe get what's coming to 'em just as badly as you guys, if not more. But right now that's not possible, and the sooner we accept that, the better."

"This isn't like you, JJ," says Kie, and her expression is hurt; pleading, even. He looks at her, not even sure what he's trying to convey.

"Let's just go," says Pope, clearly trying to mediate. JJ doesn't break his gaze from Kie's, and she's the one to look away first, her face a mix of anger, disappointment, and hurt. He doesn't like making her feel that way, but he also doesn't feel too bad right now. He's pissed, and he doesn't care if it shows.

"I'm just gonna walk," he says finally, his eyes lingering on Kie before he turns to face Pope. "Get some air."

"JJ—"

"It's fine," he snaps. "Just go, Pope. I'll see you later."

His friend watches him, trying to decipher his expression, but JJ has no clue what he's even fucking looking for. Pope seems to realize that whatever it is, he won't find it, and lets out a sigh. He shakes his head, and JJ can't tell if he's annoyed. He probably is.

"Whatever, man," says Pope. "I'll see you, Kie," he says, and Kie gives him half a smile before he retreats to back Heyward's truck, giving them one last look over his shoulder.

"I'm not giving up," says Kie once Pope is gone, and JJ looks at her. "And I know you aren't either."

She doesn't give him the chance to reply before turning to her own parents' car. She stops after a few steps, though, looking back at him with a frown. "Are you sure you don't want a ride?" she offers, and JJ almost cracks a smile. Only Kie would still offer hospitality after he's a total dick to her. He almost wants to accept. Almost.

"I'm good," he says instead, keeping his face straight. He thinks that's disappointment that flits across her features, but it's gone just as quickly as it appears. She gives him one last look, and that's the end of it.

* * *

Kie, knowing exactly where he would be, shows up at the Chateau two hours later, having swapped out her black dress for her usual t-shirt and denim cutoffs. She's got a six-pack of Coors in one hand and a takeout bag in the other, no doubt peace offerings for their spat earlier. "Hey," she says as she approaches the hammock where he lays.

"Hey," he replies, and they head inside.

They eat at the kitchen table in relative silence. She just brought over a couple of burgers and some fries from the restaurant, but it's the best JJ's eaten in a while now. He's also not complaining about the beer.

They've finished eating and are both nearly finished with their drinks when Kie speaks up. "I'm sorry," she says. "About what I said. I know you care."

"I know," he says. "And it's okay. I was out of line, too."

"Truce, then?" she asks, and JJ tips his bottle at her.

"Kie, you brought me burgers and beer. We had a truce as soon as you showed up." Also he can't stay mad at her to save his life, but he leaves that part out.

She smiles, and it makes his heart beat all out of rhythm. Even at their worst she makes him feel like he's nothing more than a kid with a crush, which he supposes is exactly what he is.

They finish off the fries between them, Kie leaving the last handful to him before she collects their trash and moves to throw it away. JJ rises from the table as well, taking their empty bottles and placing them over beside the sink. He then makes his way back over to the table, where Kie placed the six-pack, and grabs a second serving because why not.

Unfortunately, though, when he goes to twist off the top his hand slips. He feels a sharp pain shoot through the bottom corner of his palm, right under his thumb. "Fuck," he hisses, taking his hand away and watching as the cut begins to bleed.

"What did you do?" Kie asks, already sounding exasperated.

"Just fucking cut myself," he mutters, cringing as he brings his hand up to get a closer look.

"Let me see, you drama queen," she says as she makes her way over, reaching out and wrapping her fingers around his wrist, bringing his hand up so that she can examine it. "Aw, _mi_ _pobrecito,"_ she cooes in mock sympathy, and JJ rolls his eyes. "Stay here."

She brushes past him then, heading straight for the bathroom. He can hear her rummaging around a bit, followed by a satisfied _ah-ha_ before she materializes back by his side.

"Come on," she says, hopping up onto the counter next to the sink and beckoning him over to her. He watches as she grabs a hand towel and wets it down. "Give me," she says, taking his hand again. She turns it so that she can see the cut and presses the towel to it, wiping away the blood. She snorts at how small the cut actually is. "Fucking baby."

"Hey, if you're gonna make fun—" begins JJ with a grin, starting to pull away. She tugs him right back, giving him a look before turning her attention back to the cut and unwrapping the Band-Aid she must've found in the bathroom. She sticks it over the wound and makes sure it's flat, then looks back at him with a smile.

"There," she says. "The day has been saved." And then, before JJ can even realize what's happening, she's bringing his hand up and pressing her lips to the bandaged cut. She lingers there for a moment before pulling away with an exaggerated smooching sound _,_ an almost mischievous glint in her eyes that has his mouth suddenly dry. "For good measure," she says, and there's no way she doesn't know what she's doing.

He recovers quickly, though, putting on his usual smirk and leaning in a bit because hey, if she wants to start a game then she'd better be ready to play. "Interesting method you've got there, Doctor," he says.

Kie smirks right back, and it does something to his gut. "Don't get used to it," she says, dropping his hand.

"Ah!" he suddenly exclaims, wincing and recoiling just a bit.

"JJ?" asks Kie, concern lacing her voice. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"I don't know, Doc," he says, shaking his head before looking back up at her. "I've got, like, this new pain all of a sudden, like right..." he gestures to his mouth, and watches as the pieces click into place behind Kie's eyes.

"Oh, _please,_ " she groans, gently pushing him away and hopping down from the counter.

"Come on, that was good," JJ says, regaining his balance and outstretching his arms in a wide shrug.

"It absolutely was not."

"You're literally smiling right now."

"Yeah, at how much of a dumbass you are, dumbass."

"A dumbass you wanna kiss, you mean."

"Is there another option?" she quips, pushing past him and grabbing the pack of beer. He watches her as she brings it over to the fridge, not even bothering to hide the grin on his face.

They haven't really flirted like this in a while. Well, JJ hasn't. Kie never was one for blatant flirtation, more about the looks and the body language, but even those haven't been making any appearances since they slept together.

Which, JJ would be lying if he said he doesn't still think about.

It's not his fault, okay. And he doesn't think about it _like that,_ just in the "oh shit" type of way, because she's his best friend and _yeah_ there's always been feelings there on his part, but he never expected anything akin to reciprocation. And now that it actually happened, he doesn't know what to do, especially since they seem to have this unspoken agreement to never mention it again.

But the thing is, he _wants_ to mention it again. For one of the first times in his life, JJ actually wants to address the way he's feeling and talk it out with Kie and figure out what the fuck happens next, because a month ago he was certain he'd never get anywhere with her, on the verge of giving up completely, and now he knows exactly how her lips feel against his.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when Kie comes up behind him gives his hair a tug. He yelps dramatically.

”Getting too long,” she says with a grin, and JJ runs a hand through it in protest.

”No, no, I like it like this,” he defends. “I feel like James Dean.”

”James Dean didn’t have long hair.”

”Then who am I thinking of?”

She shrugs, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall. “Redneck Owen Wilson?"

"How dare you."

* * *

An hour later they're lying side-by-side on the pullout bed, passing Kie's Juul back and forth between them.

"Do you think it's bad for you to keep hanging out here?" JJ asks at one point, blowing out a cloud of pineapple-mango.

"What?" She turns to look at him like he's grown an extra head or something.

"Like, because of your family," JJ explains. "Now that we're accomplices or whatever, I can't imagine your parents are happy with the reputation. And the restaurant—" 

Kie sighs, the one she reserves for when she's about to launch into a lecture. She takes the Juul from him and places it on the windowsill above the bed, and JJ braces himself. "You're overthinking, JJ," she says. "It's not a good look on you." He begins to protest, but she cuts him off. "Look, The Wreck's been in a bit of a rut lately, anyway. Has been for a while, that's how restaurants work. They come in waves, the bad and the good periods. What happened with John B has nothing to do with it, and neither does me standing by you guys."

"But—"

"I mean it," she says, and the conviction in her voice has him believing her, even if his gut tells him there's more to it. He turns to face her, and she's already looking at him. Her eyes have this fucking light to them, something like determination, and his stomach flips. "Look, I know you sometimes feel like you aren't worth it," she says, her voice low, honest. "But you are. Okay? I know my parents would love it if I started hanging around the Kooks again, but I'd take you over any of them in a heartbeat."

Something stirs inside of him. Somehow she's managed to address the exact fear that's been running through his head this entire time, the one that he couldn't even decipher himself. He's always known she's too good for him, for the rest of them. She's got everything she could ever want, and everything they could ever dream of, right at her fingertips. Why would she ever stay?

And he hates himself for thinking like this, he really does. Even more, he hates to admit that her Kook Year did fuck him up. He knows that Kie would do anything for them without batting an eye, and that she still beats herself up for ditching them that year. But it was still a painful reminder of the fact that she could leave them, leave _him,_ so easily if she ever chose to. Deep down he knows that she never would, but there's always been that little voice of fear in the back of his mind, eating away at him. He's not proud of it.

He doesn't want her to catch his hesitation, though, so he cracks a grin instead. "Of course you would, Kie," he says in reply to her previous statement. "I mean, who _wouldn't_ take a ruggedly handsome street rat over a bunch of future frat bros?"

She groans. "Don't flatter yourself," she says, but she smiles anyway and he feels a little better now.

They fall into another comfortable silence, lying on their backs and staring up at the ceiling. JJ rests one arm behind his head, his other by his side, and he can just feel Kie's fingers brushing his own by a hair. He wonders if it would be too much for him to move his hand even closer, tangle his fingers with hers, and within seconds it's all he can think about, overwhelming and all-consuming. His brain screams at him to stop, to avoid the vulnerability because he'd only be setting himself up for failure.

But then what would that mean? That all of this, their days and nights spent at the Chateau, the times they've held each other while one or both of them broke down in sobs, those fucking looks that pass between them, that it's all for nothing? He knows something's shifted since that first night, he _knows._ But what if he's reading into it too much?

Historically, none of the guys have ever been able to accurately read Kie and her feelings. John B and Pope both tried and failed with her; hell, even JJ had tried and failed over the years, until he just made it out to be some kind of running joke. Kie has this specific type of love that leaves you confused and wondering. She'll kiss your cheek, hold your hand, then shut you down as soon as you try to take it any further.

It's not like he's mad at her for it, or anything. Sometimes he just wishes it was easier.

He's so wrapped up in his own thoughts that at first, he doesn't even feel it when her pinkie finger connects with his own, hooking around it like a promise. JJ feels his breath hitch, but says nothing, deciding to let her take this where she wants to, knowing that he'll be okay with whatever she chooses. All he does is wind their fingers together a little tighter, a reassurance in case it's what she needs.

Apparently, it is. Because the next thing he knows, her hand is sliding up and under his until all of their fingers are woven together, his hand covering hers. He tries to force the smile from his face, not wanting to freak her out, but he can't help it. It spreads slowly, close-lipped and undoubtedly cheesy as hell, but he doesn't care. To him, her gesture is an affirmation.

He counts to thirty in his head before he finally turns to her, only to see her staring up at the ceiling, apparently lost in thought. He’s reminded of their nights in the hammock out back, when she’s high and wonderstruck by the constellations above, as if she’s just seeing the sky for the first time. He’s always wished she’d look at him the way she looks at the stars.

"Kie," he breathes.

She looks at him now, and he swears his heart literally skips a fucking beat. Kie's always been an expressive person, but this is different. The way her eyes bore into his, in a way they never quite have before, has his mind reeling, scrambling to form a coherent thought that's not _Kiara Kiara Kiara_.

"Yeah?" she says, her voice uncharacteristically small.

He's hit with the sudden urge to tell her he loves her. Because he does, he totally fucking does, screw whatever his dad's made him believe. He may be a Maybank, but he's capable of loving, he knows he fucking is, because what else could this be? He's never been so sure about it in his life.

"I—" he begins, but it's like he's forgotten how to speak. "I just—"

"I know," she says, and he's not sure if she really does, but it's enough for him.

And he doesn't really know who moves first but suddenly they're kissing, and somehow it still feels just as new and overwhelming as the last time it happened. Only this time there’s nothing to blame—no drugs, no alcohol, no grief. This is them, all them, and the thought buzzes around in his mind, making his already-clouded thoughts even more hazy.

Kie immediately shifts so that she's hovering above him, straddling his waist as her hair falls around them, her hands on either side of his face as she deepens the kiss. His own hand comes up to weave through the hair at the back of her head, gripping the curls tightly, like he's afraid she'll suddenly regret all of this and pull away.

To JJ's surprise, she’s the one to really take over, her teeth grazing his lower lip. He opens his mouth to hers, giving her waist a squeeze with the hand that isn't tangled in her hair. She sighs before breaking the kiss, staring down at him with her mouth slightly agape, breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed. JJ's sure he isn't any better, searching her features for any traces of regret. He doesn't find any.

And so he grins, bringing a hand up to brush away her hair and rest against the side of her face. She leans into his touch, reciprocating his smile. "Hi," he says, and she lets out a single, breathless laugh.

"Hi."

He swallows, unsure of what else to say. Honestly he doesn't trust himself to speak at the moment, because he knows he'll blurt out something he may very well regret. So instead he leans up again, slowly, hesitantly, giving her the opportunity to back away should she choose. She doesn't; rather, she closes the distance between them, softly reconnecting their lips.

He really can't get enough. He thought it was a fluke last time, that she was caught up in her grief and that he was too, so their judgment was clouded and they just weren't thinking straight. But this... this is wholly intentional, completely deliberate. The way she presses into him, the little sounds she's making in the back of her throat when he sits up a little more, detaches from her lips to trail his own along her neck; fuck, it's enough to make him just about lose it.

She gasps when he bites down, right where her neck meets her shoulder. She grips his hair and rolls her hips, and then he's thinking _fuck it_ and seeking out her lips once more.

He loves her. Holy _shit_ , does he fucking love her. He tries to show it, for real this time, as they fall back onto the bed in a mess of lips and limbs and breathless laughter. Every sigh, every shudder, is an anchor to him, keeping him here in this moment, one that he never wants to end.

And this, JJ decides, is all he'll ever need.

* * *

"Should we... talk about it?"

"Probably."

Silence.

"Well, this is a good start."

She fixes him with a look, the one where she tries to act all stern but is actually just making a shitty attempt at hiding her smile. It's the morning after, and they're sitting across from each other on the floor of the front porch, having cold pizza for breakfast. She's wearing his shirt and he thinks he never wants it back because yeah, it was honestly probably made for her and not him.

"Okay, so what's on your mind?" she asks, even though he's pretty sure she already knows.

 _What's on my mind?_ he thinks. _Well, you, for starters. And not much else, lately._

"A lot of things, I guess. This, mostly." He gestures to the space between them and then sighs, closing his eyes. _Might as well bite the bullet._ When he opens them again, she's watching him expectantly. "Shit. I... god, Kie, I'm into you. Like, so fucking into you it's not even funny," he lets out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. "I know I've made it clear, I guess, or I thought I did. But you have your whole _no Pogue-on-Pogue_ thing and I always just thought that you could... well, you just had so many other options. _Have_ so many other options. And I guess I just knew I was never one of 'em."

"JJ..."

"No, it's okay," he says, shooting her what he hopes is a reassuring smile, and he means it. He came to terms with it a long time ago, the fact that being with Kie just isn't in the cards for him. "I don't wanna... you know, pull like a John B or a Pope and force anything on you. I don't want you to feel like, _obligated_ or anything, I just... we wanted to talk so that's what I'm doing." He takes a deep breath when he finishes, and again, lets his eyes slip closed. He very well could have just fucked everything up. Like, royally.

"JJ," Kie says again, and when he finally dares a glance back up at her, he frowns a bit.

She's looking at him with this strange expression. She's smiling a little, but it almost looks watery and her brows are furrowed like she's confused or something. She probably is. He just dumped all of this shit onto her, and even though it's not _really_ out of the blue, he knows it's still a lot. Maybe he shouldn't have sent it like that.

"I'm sorry, Kie," he says, and he scrambles for a way to backpedal. "I know it's a lot and like I said you don't have to—"

"JJ, shut up," she says, still with that same expression on her face. He does. Now it's Kie's turn to sigh, and she tilts her head a little like she's trying to think of exactly what to say next. Probably the best way to let him down easy. "I never knew you felt like that," she says finally, and JJ's taken aback.

"You... _how?"_ he asks incredulously. Kie gives him a look that screams, _Seriously?_

"I don't know,” she says. “I guess I always thought your constant… _flirting_ was just _you_. John B and Pope were a lot quieter about things which I guess is why I wasn't... you know, _as_ surprised when they made their moves." She shrugs again before continuing. "But JJ, you were always there with some comment or something, just like you are with every girl, and you never gave a shit about any of them so I assumed I was no different."

"I made so many moves," he says, his voice coming out kinda strangled. He almost wants to laugh at how ridiculous this all is, at the fact that she could ever think he didn’t give a shit about _her_ , of all people.

"JJ, you asked to make out like once at the Boneyard when you were pretty much _blackout._ That's literally the closest you've ever come to making an _actual_ move before recently."

"Ouch," he mutters, wincing jokingly. "I thought I was being charming."

She laughs a little, shaking her head, and JJ can't even begin to describe the relief he feels. "Hey, take it as a good thing," she says. "You thought I just wasn't into you, but really I never put it together that you were into me."

He quirks a brow. "Kiara!“ he says in mock surprise. “Are you implying that you are, in fact, into me?"

Kie scoffs, rolling her eyes. But then she sombers a bit, her gaze softening. "I guess I'm not... _not_ into you? I don't know. I mean, god, JJ, we’ve hooked up _twice_ now so there's obviously _something_. It's kinda just—"

"Confusing," he offers.

"Yeah," she concedes. "And the timing is just—"

"Fucked up."

"Exactly."

JJ nods. "I get it," he says. "We don't have to... you know, rush into anything. Like, ever, even, if that's what you'd prefer. You know where my head's at, though." He offers her an easy smile, like he can just laugh this whole thing off if she ends up rejecting him, which absolutely is not the case but if she’s not making a decision she’ll be happy with, then JJ will be awfully pissed at himself because the last thing he wants to do is force her hand.

 _This is your out,_ he tells her in his mind, as if by some magical twist of nature she can hear him. _Let me down now if you’re going to._

Her lips quirk up into half a smile. "Thanks, JJ," she says, and he nods. She takes another bite of her pizza, looking out over the water. "I think..." she finally says, "I think we shouldn't jump into anything."

_Right._

"Yeah, no, totally," he says, trying not to let his shoulders deflate.

"Yo, I wasn't finished," she says, clearly noticing the way he faltered a bit. "I was gonna say that we shouldn't jump into anything, but that I'd still like to see where this goes."

JJ frowns. "What?"

"Like," she begins, thinking. "Like, I don't know. I just feel like there are so many factors that led us to where we are now that aren't genuinely organic, if that makes sense. You know, with John B and Sarah, and then me and Pope, I just..." she sighs. "I don't want to jump into something that burns too bright and too fast. You're too important to me. I want to be sure of this. Of us."

"So... what are you suggesting?"

Kie shrugs. "We don't define anything yet."

JJ lets his jaw drop comically, and he barks out an incredulous laugh. "Kie, _what?_ You wanna go label-less?"

"Well, not exactly!" she's quick to defend. "I don't know. Like. You're not gonna catch me hooking up with any Tourons at the next Boneyard party, but I'm also not gonna put any pressure on you to like. Take me out or anything. We'll just be... _us._ For now. Until we're sure."

He doesn't tell her that she's just about the only thing he's sure of anyway, instead nodding because he supposes it makes sense. He's never been in a relationship before, not for real, and he knows Kie hasn't, either. They've both always been the ones to hook up but never settle down, the least likely to catch feelings compared to awkward Pope and sensitive John B—him even more than her—so he understands her reservations. But in all honesty, he doesn't think he even wants to _look_ at another Touron or Kook ever again, not after everything that's happened with Kie.

But if she's not ready for anything concrete yet, then he's not going to pressure her into it. He can show her that he wants this, wants _her_ and no one else. And when—and if—she's ready, he'll be here, waiting. He doesn't mind.

For her, he would wait a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and, fin!
> 
> i know i said it last chapter, but again, thank you all for supporting my own personal frankenstein’s monster. there were a lot of times where i just wasn't feeling it anymore and kinda asked myself like, "do i really wanna keep going with this?" but then all of your positive feedback and kind comments gave me that extra push of motivation i needed to make it through to the end. so thank you. for real.
> 
> if i'm being honest, i don't know when the next time i'll write for these guys will be. i've got a few drafts but nothing's really sticking, so until i find an idea that i'm irrefutably in love with, i'll probably lay low, just do some reading and commenting on all of your beautiful works! so yeah, once again thanks for liking this and for giving me a chance. until next time :)
> 
> p.s. i made a [tumblr](https://outerpogues.tumblr.com) for obx! check it out if you want!


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